“Dylan!” Cassidy screamed as soon as he had door open. “Tiffany's been shot. We need an ambulance.”
He turned to find his friend already calling in for a bus. Tiffany was in bad shape, Cassie's poor excuse for first aid curbing the bleeding, but not stopping it completely. The small officer looked like she'd been through hell, and it boiled Dylan's blood that it was at the hands of a cop. After situating Tiffany with Chris, he carried Cassie out of the container, yanking his shirt over his head to cover her near nakedness after he gently kissed her sweet mouth. “Let's get you safe,” he whispered in her ear. He'd just stepped out of the crate when the tell-tale ping of a bullet against metal made him scan the horizon. Archer was out there, and he was shooting.
He couldn't say if it was instinct or training that made him safely set Cassie behind the blue box before crawling toward his truck. He needed his rifle, and he needed it now.
~*~
Dylan had hidden her behind the box that had been her prison for Lord knew how long and now he was creeping toward his truck on his belly, staying low but still scaring the shit out of her. Her heart stopped when she saw the driver's side window explode in a shower of glass, but Dylan seemed unfazed, a man on a mission, and she held her breath when he yanked open the passenger door. She felt her lips curve into a smile at the same time her heart clutched in her chest. Dylan was a sniper, and now he had his rifle. All he had to do now was find his way back to the relative safety of their position and hunt Steve Archer down.
Dylan slid through the tall grass, his big body moving in a way she'd never seen in person. Even with the danger surrounding them, she was captivated by her Ranger, a man so in his element she felt her fear melt away. She'd held onto the hope, the knowledge he would find her, and now she knew he would keep her safe.
Another bullet whizzed by Dylan's left side, hitting the ground with an explosion of dirt and grass. Her heart beat double-time, her gasp involuntary and painful. Her fear for herself may be gone, but he'd almost been hit by the last shot. She scanned the landscape. Where exactly were they? She turned to ask Chris, finding the detective with Tiffany in his lap, giving her more proper first aid. The shirt she had used as a bandage was nearly soaked through, and he had moved the belt above the gunshot wound. Now she remembered what Caleb had said. She gave herself a mental smack. Hopefully what she had done had helped a small measure, even if it was completely wrong. This was why she was a lawyer, not a doctor.
The box at her back shook with the impact of yet another bullet, and she swung her focus back to Dylan. She was wearing his t-shirt, leaving the muscles of his back and chest exposed, the glorious eagle on his right pectoral seeming to fly with his movements as he crept along the grass. She licked her dry lips and braced herself more tightly against the metal behind her, the decision she'd made in the box coming to the forefront.
When he settled next to her, his right side flush against her left, she blurted, “I love you.”
He turned slightly, those amazing eyes of his widening a fraction, his mouth turning into a full, gleaming smile. “Your timin' is a bit off darlin', but I'll take it.” He leaned over to softly kiss her lips. “You know I love you.”
She did, but that didn't make the rest of what she had to say any easier. “I think I might have been...” she started, unable to finish the sentence. It wasn't important now, and when they made it out of this mess, they could have children when they planned them.
He tilted his head, and she wondered if he knew what she had kept herself from saying. “How badly did he hurt you?” he asked. “There was a lot of blood.”
“He likes knocking women across the face.” His eyes flamed at the declaration, and she forced herself to go on, “He kicked me in the stomach and ribs—I think he cracked a few.”
The muscle in his jaw was tense when he prompted, “And Morgan?”
“She was shot in the arm, and hit across the forehead with something. Her gun, maybe.”
“Pistol-whipped,” he supplied, his tone fierce. “He's not getting out of here alive.”
She took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in her ribs. “Don't kill him if you don't have to. I want J.D. to nail him for this and everything else I'm sure he's done. I want to throw him in prison with men who just love cops.” Whoa. She sounded downright bloodthirsty.
“I'll do what is necessary,” he sidestepped, the fingers around is rifle tightening. He kissed her gently before arranging himself so he could see the other side of the field, the majority of his body hidden by the container. Several minutes later, she heard him rasp, “Dammit!”
“Can't see him?”
“No. After those few shots, he's in the wind. He wanted to force us to safety so he could run.”
“Shit.”
“Yep.”
~*~
Dylan thanked the good Lord when the ambulance finally arrived. He knew Chris was taking care of the officer as best as he could, but gunshot wounds and head injuries were serious things. He glanced at Cassie, the look of determination on her face raising his hackles. “You're goin' too. No arguments.”
“Tiffany is more hurt,” she said, jerking her chin high.
“Yes, but I know for a fact you were beat to hell, too.” He gritted his teeth against the roil of nausea that came every time he thought about that bloody bathroom. “You're goin'.”
“Back to the same hospital I was kidnapped from?” Her voice wavered with the question, and he swallowed back the roar that wanted to make its way out of his mouth. How dare Archer make her brother's hospital a place Cassie couldn't feel safe?
“I hate it, but yes. Caleb is there waitin' on you.”
She sighed and he didn't miss the tightening around her mouth and eyes with the pain it caused. “Don't leave me.”
She was asking him to give up the search for Archer to stand by her side as she was checked out and probably admitted. Instead of arguing the point, he told her the truth. He would never leave her side, not for the rest of his life. “Never.”
Her dry lips curved into a small smile. “You mean that?”
“Always.”
She seemed to relax with the answer, allowing Finnegan and Cordova to bundle her into the bus with Tiffany. He and Chris followed in his truck, dropping the detective at his own car on the way off the property. Archer would have to wait, but Dylan couldn't shake the feeling there was something bigger, something worse coming. Archer had only shot at them a handful of times before making tracks. It was as if he wanted them to find the women, wanted them to go to the hospital for their injuries.
“Fuck!” he yelled to no one. He grabbed his phone from the dashboard and called Chris.
“I'm right behind you,” his friend answered.
“I know. Call Cordova and Finnegan, or dispatch. Archer knew the women would be headed to the hospital. He's got something planned there, I can feel it.”
He heard Chris's sharp intake of breath before he asked, “Another bomb?”
“It's a good bet.” Fucking shit. If Archer blew up the hospital, it would be an act of domestic terrorism. Part of his brain tried to understand what could make a man flip like that, but he came up empty.
“I'm on it. I'll redirect to Sheridan.”
“Good man.”
He watched the bus take the exit to go north and swallowed the bitter taste of bile. He had just promised he would never leave her, but he wanted to head to Aylesford, wanted to confront the bastard who had caused so much pain to his Cassie, but he knew that choice would hurt her more. Instead of breaking his word, he followed, snatching his phone from the dash yet again.
“You find her?” Caleb asked after a half ring.
“We did. She and Tiffany Morgan are hurt pretty bad, but I'm afraid to bring her to you.”
Not a stupid man, Caleb caught what he wasn't saying. “Should we evacuate?”
“Probably. Call Aylesford PD.” He blew out a slow breath before he admitted the next part. “There are two bodyguards
there I brought in to protect you. You might recognize them if you see them. I need you to stay close to them, and get out of harm's way.”
“Why, Superman, I might believe you care,” Caleb said on a chuckle.
“Nah, it's an act, but your sister would kill me if I let you get dead, so play along, okay?”
“Aye-aye, sir.” He paused for a beat. “You said I'd know these bodyguards?”
“Yeah, you will. They were just at your brother's house.”
“Ah. You keep my sister safe, and I'll follow directions.”
They said their goodbyes and Dylan tossed his phone back on the dash, settling in for the longer than expected drive to the hospital. He hoped his gut was wrong, hoped Archer didn't have something terrible planned, hoped someone would pick the bastard up and end this nightmare, but he wasn't holding his breath.
~*~
Brandon looked over at Jason Monroe as the other man listened to whomever had called, a lot of yes sir's crossing his lips. When he finally threw the phone down, Brandon asked, “What?”
“Chris and Black found the women. Both are beat up, your officer Morgan was shot, but okay, and they're headed to Sheridan General now.”
His heart was beating so quickly, the blood rushing in his ears, he could barely ask, “Sheridan General?”
“It seems your partner shot at them a few times before running, and Black thinks he was planning on the women getting patched up at Aylesford Memorial and has something planned there. I tend to agree.”
He did too, but this was all too much. He was supposed to be the one who played the system, but he'd been played more than anyone else. He'd trusted Steve with his life, but now they were worried he would launch an attack against a hospital? “What the fuck?”
Monroe glanced at him, his pale blue eyes cold as ice. “You don't agree?”
“No, it's not that.” He shook his head. “I just can't get over Steve turning.”
“Well, get over it,” Monroe said, his tone brittle. “If I have to have you at my back, I want to know you'll be able to pull the trigger.”
Shit. He wanted to know if he could kill Steve? Could he? Would he be able to separate the villain he was today from the hero he was before? He took a deep breath. Yes. If it came down to him or Steve, it would always be him. And if it came down to Steve or Monroe? He took a breath and let it out slowly before he told the unvarnished truth. “I've got your back.”
“Likewise,” Monroe promised. “I might not always agree with you, but I'll cover you.”
He could deal with that. He didn't need a best friend, just a partner. Once they got to Aylesford Memorial and found Archer all hell would break loose, and he needed to trust Monroe just as the other man had to trust him. He counted the passing trees as they drove, his mind rejecting his current circumstances even as he knew they were real. He was partnered with an Aylesford detective, a man less than a week before he'd viewed as a loose cannon, on the trail of his partner whom he'd thought was solid. God, he wished he were anywhere but where he was, ready to not just arrest his partner, but take him out.
~*~
Dylan shoehorned the truck into a parking spot near the ER, almost hitting a woman on a cell phone when he threw open the door. He slid from his seat quickly, making it two steps into the lot before he turned back, the feeling of being watched prickling the hair on the back of his neck. He'd forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt, his sidearm gleaming in the sun against his bare skin. Dammit. He rummaged around the backseat until he found a t-shirt. It was gray and had a hole under the armpit, but it didn't smell and he wasn't half naked, so he called it good. He broke into a run once he was decent, ignoring the nurse calling after him, finally coming to a stop beside Cassie's gurney. He'd promised he would be at her side, and he wasn't about to break his word.
“Sir, you can't be back here,” the heavyset nurse following him admonished.
Cassie grabbed his arm, unable to move much the way she was strapped down. “He's my fiancé,” she declared, the thought causing warmth to curl in his chest. He knew it was just to allow him to stay with her, but she'd just admitted she loved him. Now wasn't the time to ask again, but he would make her words true before long.
The nurse looked him up and down, disdain marring her features. “You want him here?”
Understanding dawned in Cassie's dark eyes. “He didn't do this to me. He would never hurt me.”
The nurse studied her, appearing like she wanted to say more, but pursing her lips instead. “Suit yourself,” she muttered as she turned to walk away. “I have more important things to deal with anyway.”
He'd just bet she did. The ER was pandemonium, Cassie tucked into a corner, Officer Morgan nowhere to be found. Why wasn't there a doctor or at least a nurse here? “Where's Tiffany?”
She squeezed his hand in hers. “I told you she was worse off than I was. They took her into surgery—had to get the bullet out.”
“Where are Finnegan and Cordova?” he asked, his anxiety building. He had redirected the women here to keep them from danger, but he wondered now if that had been the right call. He was here alone, all the cops in Aylesford waiting for something to happen there.
“With Tiffany, I think,” Cassie answered. She shifted her weight, eliciting a groan, and he worked her free of the restraints. She was beaten up, her face pale, her lips white with pain, and she had been relegated to a corner. He knew they had to work on Tiffany and others brought to the ER with with injuries, but he still wasn't pleased. “They need to look at you soon or I'm gonna raise hell.”
She gave him a soft smile. “I'm sure you will.”
Hell yes, he would. She needed to be seen, she needed her ribs wrapped, she needed to have her head, her jaw, and her nose examined. If he hadn't sent her here, she'd be patched up by now, her brother taking extra care. No, scratch that. Caleb would be working on Tiffany, his expertise in the OR. He shook his head. He was getting overprotective, paranoid, and driving himself crazy. His sense of being watched, of being targeted, hadn't completely subsided, but he tried to shrug it off. Archer had run somewhere, and he had banked on it being Aylesford. The back of his neck prickled, and the space between his shoulder blades tensed. He might be paranoid, but he'd lay money someone watching them.
He leaned down to drop a kiss on Cassie's lips just as they were approached by a balding man dressed in green scrubs. “So, Ms. Everett, what have we here?”
She turned to address the doctor. “I was assaulted.”
The doctor took a cursory look over Cassie's beaten body, his lips compressing into a thin line as his glance tracked to Dylan.
He realized he was a big man, but why did everyone keep assuming he had hurt her? “I didn't do this.”
The other man's eyes rounded. “I wouldn't sugg—”
“Your face said it all, so let me break it down for you. She was beaten and kidnapped this mornin' after her parent's house was burned down and her own blown up, so I need you take care of her now so I can keep her safe.”
“I...” the doctor began, unable to come up with anything to say besides, “Well.”
“Dylan,” Cassidy scolded.
“I need him to understand I would never hurt you, Cassie.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I need him to fix you up so I can take you home.”
“I can't go home until...” she started, leaving off the rest of the sentence.
The doctor finally found his voice. “Let's get you looked at, then.” He turned then to Dylan. “You can't—”
“I don't care what you think I can and can't do, sir. I'm not leavin' her side.”
“But—”
“Did you not hear me tell you what she's been through just today?” he growled. “I am not leavin'.”
Unable to get a word in, and seemingly unwilling to fight him any longer, the doctor began his examination, calling a nurse to assist. Dylan stayed by Cassie's side, his senses on high alert. He didn't know if Archer was there, or if something else was
pulling at him, but he knew it wasn't right. He paced as the doctor worked on Cassie, his mind spinning and his nerves jangling. After this morning he would never let her out of his sight.
His sense of dread increased as they admitted Cassie and settled her into a room, hating the vision of her wrapped in gauze and hooked up to monitors and tubes. Watching her, his failure hit him full force. If he'd kept better care of her, she wouldn't be here, wouldn't have bruised or broken ribs and a concussion. What had driven Steve Archer from upholder of the law to mad man?
“Why?” he muttered.
“He was mad at me,” she answered, her voice barely more than a whisper. “He blames me for a case I couldn't prosecute.”
He felt his eyes narrow, his brows draw together. “What?”
“It's Steve Archer, he's the one who's been stalking me, blowing people up?” she asked, her face drawn in pain.
“Yeah, it is.”
“When we prosecuted Rossi, Archer had a ton of useless evidence against Dwayne Irving, and was adamant we prosecute him as well.” She leaned against the pillows, as if telling the story were physically draining, and he waited. “We couldn't. I wanted to, Simmons' wanted to, but we couldn't chance it.”
“Double jeopardy.”
She nodded very slightly. “Right.” She winced as she took a deep breath. “Archer was pissed at me, but I never thought...”
“Somethin' set him off,” he picked up where she left off. “Where is Irving now?”
She made a hand gesture. “Here.”
“Sheridan?” he asked, not liking her answer at all.
“We were reasonably sure they'd relocated to Sheridan after Rossi was put away. Three girls went missing from Tyler High, then nothing.”
Why had no one turned up this information before? “Three girls?”
“Rossi and his lot traded in guns, drugs, and girls.” She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don't know how long I hated myself for not being able to do anything.” She sighed. “We haven't had any problem in the last two years in Ayles county.”
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